17 August
It was pouring rain on the drive to the crematorium.
It was quite the homecoming.
My mother in the passenger's seat, worried that this rain meant I was being punished.
A version of the story that did not ring true for my body.
Holding each other's arms
Under the umbrella that sheltered us from the downpour
We walked into the temple to light incense
In honour of Gods and ancestors
My grandparents and great-grandparents
I felt their presence
"She is finally here."
Standing before their stones
I felt a softening
The rain came to a slow
In front of my grandfather,
A lump in my throat
As I held down tears.
I felt him cheering me on.
I felt him say yes, you are here.
How long have you felt unworthy, dear child?
Every ancestors who came before me
They have dreamt big dreams
That got me here today.
In front of my grandmother
A matriarchal presence in the liminal space.
And it was all here
Dancing, whispering,
You can...
You can...
You can...
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